


before the blast

by rievu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Omnic Crisis, Pre-Canon, fluff and angst and everything else, honestly don't know where i'm going with this but might as well try
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:10:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rievu/pseuds/rievu
Summary: a series of interconnected memories and stories about jack morrison and gabriel reyes before the explosion in switzerland





	1. silicon valley

**Author's Note:**

> not really sure where this is going, but hey, might as well try something out? wanted to try something new and different.

The scent of iron and smoke is redolent and heavy on the air, and Jack’s blood feels like it’s running hotter than ever. His vision is too sharp and too colorful, as if someone upped the quality beyond what his brain could possibly handle. A sudden explosion rocks his feet, and Jack instinctively dives to the left, away from the vibrations in the ground. The speed at which he reacts and tucks into roll still surprises him.

_ Genetics _ , he thinks.  _ Modifications. SEP. _

His life never used to be quite like this. He could have never dreamed of something like this back in Indiana. The small, homey feeling of belonging, summer days spent by the lake, lemonade and cookies straight from the oven, farming the fields, deep blue skies and rolling fields of tall, waving grass. This wasn’t anything that he could have ever thought of when he first enrolled in the military either. It was only ever meant to be a quick thing, a short time in the military to help the country during the Omnic Crisis.  
But no, he just  _ had _ to catch the eye of the military brass, he just  _ had _ to be enrolled in the soldier enhancement program. _ SEP _ , he thinks ruefully.  _ Superhuman speed, strength, agility, superman everything, huh? _

Jack’s breath catches in his throat as he presses himself against the ruins of an abandoned building. He glances around the room quickly, checking to see if there are any hostiles in the area. None except for the ones advancing on him. It looks like an old tech building. The logo that used to be on the wall is singed and burned off, but he thinks that it might have been one of the technology giants before the Crisis. Silicon Valley was one of the major war zones of the Crisis. After all, why wouldn't it be? It was one of the largest technological centers of the world, and people just couldn't resist investing and making more of omnic technology. He remembers how they used to praise the adaptability of artificial intelligence; now, he's just bitter at how much of a tactical problem that same adaptability poses. Now, it's just a matter of acclimatizing to the situation and trying to find the best way out while keeping the most people alive.

“Hey, Morrison, survive the blast?” a voice crackles over his comm. It’s the familiar voice of Gabriel Reyes, and Jack can’t help but smile when he hears his voice. He didn't think that he would really get along with Gabe at first, not when he was just a newbie in the ranks and Reyes already a war veteran despite a relative similarity of age. Still, he's grateful for his friendship throughout the entire program and throughout this entire operation now. Good man, strong and brave.   
“Yeah,” he breathes out, trying to stay quiet in the dust and ashes. “Bastions tries to blast me. They haven't succeeded yet.” Jack can hear a rough bark of laughter on the other side and Reyes says, “Good genetics, huh? Reflexes and all that?”  
Jack sighs as well and readies his pulse rifle as he replies, “More like good serum.”  
Reyes snorts, “Had to have good genetics for it to work though, right?” The tone in Gabriel’s voice sobers and he warns, “Three Bastions in your area. Careful, Morrison. Don’t want to drag your body back to Indiana.”  
“Same to you,” Jack easily replies. They’ve made so many jokes about death that it doesn’t feel serious anymore. “But I don’t have to drag you far. Los Angeles is a lot closer than Indiana, Reyes.”  
“That’s right,” Reyes guffaws. “So stay safe, _pendejo_. Don’t want to go all the way there just for your sorry ass.”

With that, Reyes hangs up and Jack is left to wait in the ruins of Silicon Valley, wondering how the hell he’s going to get back to his squad safely with the Bastions in the way. The silence feels more striking now that Reyes's voice is absent. Well, it's not completely silent yet. Thanks to his enhanced hearing, he can still hear gunfire and screaming far off in the distance, and the heavy scent of war hangs heavy over him, constantly reminding him of where he's at. He’s got enough ammo, so he figures that he might as well try. He activates his visor and searches for the Bastions. They lie on the horizon, looming with their large cannons, ready to shift configurations the minute that Jack sticks his head out too far. He knows that he doesn’t have the survivability or the firepower to take all of them down, but he doesn’t need that. All he needs is to escape.

He ducks out of his corner slightly in order launch a rocket blast at the Bastions. Almost immediately, they respond with full fire, and Jack starts running. Weaving in and out of the ruins, he tries to make it out before he dies. Small bullets pepper his armor and the dull impact and the sudden bloom of pain forces him to stop behind a broken wall to use a biotic field. The warm, yellow glow restores his health just enough for him to reload a rocket and sprint again.

It becomes like a pattern, repeated over and over again, and Jack  _ knows _ that pattern and repetition are dangerous strategies to use with  _ omnics _ . The sound of bullets firing and rockets blasting becomes a rhythm that feels like it's being drummed into his very bones. But he doesn’t have a choice. He needs to get his damn ass out of this area of Silicon Valley and regroup with the other super soldiers in order to gain a fighting chance. Thankfully, his muscles aren’t burning from strain and overuse yet. _Good genetics_ , he wryly thinks before he charges out again, heading for the last sprint before safety.


	2. the boy from deadlock gorge

“You saved him,” Jack says, voice flat and unyielding. He’s in Gabriel’s office, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Gabe leans back in his chair, looking weary and worn, but despite that, he looks… Proud.  
“I did,” Gabriel confirms as he stretches his arms and pops out the kinks in his back. He leans forward to prop his arms up on his desk and says, “What was I supposed to do then? Kill him?”  
Jack narrows his eyes at Gabriel and says in the same flat tone, “You brought a  _ criminal _ into Overwatch.”  
Gabe shakes his head and tuts, “No, I brought him into  _ Blackwatch _ . Big difference,  _ cariño _ .”  
Jack snorts, “Just because it’s Blackwatch doesn’t mean you’ll be able to get away with anything. What will you do if the press finds out?”  
Gabriel shrugs, “Isn’t that the point of Blackwatch? To be free from the legal matters and bureaucracy and red tape?”

Both Jack and Gabriel have been so busy, so consumed with their work, but they still managed to find time for each other. But when Jack came back to their apartment early from work, Gabriel wasn’t there. Instead, he had to call up Ana and Angela and check in Athena’s databases to find where he was. And instead of coming home, he found out that Gabriel Reyes was busy in the interrogation room with a teenage criminal from the Deadlock gang.  
And he also found out that Gabriel Reyes brought said teenage criminal  _ into _ Overwatch. Blackwatch, specifically. And sure, as Gabe says, Blackwatch may be out of the legal clutches that held Overwatch in its place, but this was something beyond what Jack ever could have expected.

Gabriel’s eyes soften as he admits, “I know what it looks like, but he’s a good kid. Name’s McCree. Jesse McCree. Don’t know if that’s his actual name, but that’s what he gave me.” He spreads his hands out and says, “He’s seventeen, Jack. Seventeen. What were  _ you  _ doing at seventeen?”   
Jack blinks and says dryly, “I was hoeing and tilling the fields, not killing people and shooting guns.” And that was exactly what he was doing, never dreaming or even thinking of the future that he has now. No thoughts of the military, just the wide, rolling plains of farmland and the blue Indiana skies.

“Exactly,” Gabe presses. “I gave the kid a second chance. If he fucks up, then, fine, I don’t tolerate infighting or anything like that in my unit, in  _ my _ Blackwatch. I’ll let him go then. But he’s a scared kid, Jack, doesn’t know anything better than the crime life. Let him have a chance in Blackwatch.” His stance still looks deceptively relaxed with his elbows on his desk, but Jack can see the tension in his shoulders and the hope in his eyes.

Jack sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You really believe in him, don’t you,” he says as he searches Gabriel’s expression. Gabe nods and wryly smiles, “Listen, I was in a rough place at seventeen. L.A. streets aren’t the best places for kids to be, not in the darker places. Thank god for Abuela Gonzalez for pulling me out and slapping sense into my empty head, but this kid? This kid never had an  _ abuela _ to do that for him. Let’s just see what he can do, huh?”

Gabe leans over and grabs a tablet from one of his desk drawers. He flicks it open and searches through his files carefully before he finds the one he wants. He smiles to himself as he opens it up, and Jack can’t help but notice the small flicker of hope in Gabriel’s eyes. It strangely feels like it’s been a long time since he’s seen that flicker. Gabe shoves the tablet over to him, saying, “That’s McCree.”

Jack looks over at the picture. It’s a picture of a scruffy, dirt-stained teenage boy looking at the camera with clear resentment in his eyes. But the most peculiar thing about the picture is the fact that the boy looks like he came out of a damn Western. A cowboy hat, a bandanna tied loosely around his neck, an old and stained rough white shirt, shaggy hair, the works. Jack swears softly under his breath, and Gabe grins, “Just like those Westerns you like, huh? He talks with a Southern accent too.” Jack gives him a dirty look and grumbles, “I don’t think that I like Westerns anymore.”

Still, Jack’s shoulders sag and he gives in. The way he sighs makes Gabe smile; he knows that Jack’s willing to let him try. “Fine, but if the kid steps out of line, if he can’t give up his crime and killing and makes a disturbance, he needs to go,” he warns. “Even in Blackwatch.”

Gabe does a mock salute and says, “Sir, yes, sir. I won’t let you down, Strike Commander Morrison.” Jack makes a face when he says  _ strike commander. _  The sound of the phrase leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Jack still thinks that Gabe would have made a better commander, but the decision was never up to him anyways. 

“Let’s see what McCree can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no clue about timelines and about things like if mccree was seventeen when he joined overwatch. but eh, whatever, we'll roll with this for now.


	3. like a river flows surely to the sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....i am a sucker for cute and domestic things

An old, old radio, probably from before the times of the Crisis, is on the kitchen counter. It looks beaten-up and worse for wear, but Gabriel stands right next to it with pride glittering in his eyes. He's wearing his ridiculous apron; one that Jack has a matching one to. Gabe's also holding a spatula as a few eggs crackle and sizzle on the frying pan. He points to the radio and says, "Look what Ana found us. Torb fixed it."

"Ana was always sentimental," Jack comments as he runs a hand through his mussed-up bed hair. "Why did she give it to us?"  Gabe turns back to the frying pan to flip the eggs as he shrugs, "Who knows what goes on in Amari's mind. She said to flip to a certain frequency though. She thought that we'd enjoy it."  Jack sighs and says dryly, "Did she specify?" He pads over to Gabe and rests his chin on Gabe's shoulder; Gabe only hums a bit and adjusts his stance slightly to accommodate the new weight on his shoulder.

The eggs pop in the remnants of the oil drops on the hot pan, and Gabe slides them on a plate. He hands it to Jack who carries it over to the table. Gabe pops a few slices of bread in the toaster, and Jack starts setting out the tableware and napkins on the small table. It’s a small nook at the end of the kitchen, but when Jack flicks the blinds barely open, the entire kitchen floods with soft, gentle morning light. He glances up at Gabe who’s bending over the radio, trying to get it to work. Gabe glances up just when Jack’s gaze lies on him too long, and Jack flushes pale pink as Gabe broadly smiles. He’s not some kind of high school boy watching his crush or something; this kind of blushing is unreasonable at this point. 

Gabe chuckles a little bit as he presses a button, “Blushing again, Jack?” Jack snorts, “Trick of the light.” Gabe opens his mouth to reply something back — probably snappy and witty as usual — but the radio suddenly bursts into song. It’s an old song, one that Jack hasn’t heard in ages, but it is still familiar and the lyrics flow like water along with the melody.

“ _ Wise men say, _ ” the radio sings out. “ _ Only fools rush in. _ ” 

“Damn,” Gabe says as he runs a hand through his closely-cropped hair. “We sure are fools then. We rush into nearly everything.” Jack laughs, “You’re the one who rushes in more than I do.” Gabe strolls over to the breakfast nook and nudges him gently as he says gruffly, “But I always get back to the point, you know. Shotguns, need to get in closer range.”

_ “But I can’t help falling in love with you,” _ the radio continues softly.  _ “Shall I stay? Would it be a sin if I can’t help falling in love with you?” _

“So,” Gabe starts off while the music plays. “Are we fools then?” He sways slowly, side to side, in time with the music and shuts his eyes. “Must be,” Jack breathes out. “You’re allowed to stay though.” Gabe cracks open an eye and says, “Here, dance with me.” Jack leans against the table and eyes the toaster and then the empty frying pan still left sitting on the stove. He shakes his head minutely as he sinks down into a chair, but the radio’s music crescendos.

"Like a river flows," Gabriel croons along as he grabs Jack's hands. As he hauls him up and out of his chair, he can feel the old calluses on Jack's hands. Strangely, that only makes him smile.   "No," Jack says amidst laughs, but Gabriel shakes his head.  "Surely to the sea," he continues. "Darling, so it goes."

"Some things are meant to be," Jack sings softly, expression softening and relenting. It's slightly off-tune, but Gabriel doesn't care. It's the thought that counts.

They sway slowly, arms wrapped around each other. Time seems to stand still as the sunlight from the dawning sun pours through the barely-open window blinds. The music continues onward as the two weary soldiers slow-dance together on top of the kitchen tiles.


	4. "tell me what the farm was like."

“Tell me what the farm was like.”

Gabriel’s voice is rough and low, but it shakes at the edge. Jack doesn’t need to look up to know that he’s grimacing, face drawn taut with pain. They’re sitting at the edge of the mess hall, trying to choke down rations faster than their pain can catch up. Jack’s eyes are throbbing. Gabriel’s hands are shaking.

They never told him that it would be like this in the SEP.

Well, that’s not entirely true. They told him that it would be difficult, that there could be unforeseen side effects to the treatments and the injections and the pills that the scientists fed them carefully. They just didn’t tell him that it would hurt like hell, and that he’d have his own personal best friend to go through hell with. Unforeseen side effects? This wasn’t an unforeseen side effect; it was a goddamn living nightmare.

Gabriel repeats, “Tell me what the farm was like.” He shoves another mouthful of what Jack thinks are supposed to be vegetables. Those aren’t good vegetables; he can tell by the way they give way when he presses his fork gently against their sides. His mother could do better than this with her garden vegetables. His father could do better with this if he planted vegetable crops instead of grain.

Jack blinks, trying to refocus back on Gabriel. It’s hard when everything is in brilliant, blinding, too-sharp color. But then, he sees that small smirk that Gabriel is trying to put on despite the pain that Jack  _ knows _ that he must be feeling in his fingers and his arms as well as his ears. He sees the curve of Gabriel’s lips in high contrast and harsh clarity, and Jack has to blink and shift his swimming vision back up to Gabriel’s warm brown eyes. 

“The farm” he begins in a soft, hushed voice. It’s out of courtesy for Gabriel’s sensitive hearing; the scientists put him through the hearing phase of the program as well as the slow reinforcement phase. They say that they’re “reinforcing” the muscle already there, but to Jack, it feels like they’re ripping out his current muscle and placing new cords of iron where they were before. He knows because he had it done to his legs first instead of his arms like what happened to Gabriel.

“The farm was a quiet place, beautiful place,” he says. “Pretty much what everybody says about country farms. But there was more to it. We had chickens, cows, fields of grain. I learned how to work early, how to milk the cows and feed the chickens and find the eggs and run the equipment.” Jack’s eyes unfocus once more as he remembers; it wasn’t like he didn’t have any fun. On the contrary, it was a good childhood spent laughing and chasing chickens around and wiping sweat off his brow. Good work, honest and pure. But it wasn’t completely innocent, no. “I learned how to slaughter the chickens and the cows, have to know that if you’re going to live on a farm,” he comments. “How to pluck the chickens after you kill them, gut fish and scrape the scales off, all of that. I went hunting with my dad every once in a while too.”

Life is transient, and he was taught that lesson early.

Even for people, injury was likely. You needed to pay attention when you ran the threshers or the reapers or the tractors; you could lose an arm or leg if you got it caught or hanging out in the wrong place. It was never a thought that he really took the time to think about. Jack realizes he started thinking about that concept a lot more in the sweat-stink and fear-scent of the ditches in some of the battlefields. 

Gabriel sighs, “Nothing like that in L.A.” Jack blinks and huffs out a small laugh, “California boy. Don’t know a thing about weather and seasons then, huh?” Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him and drawls out, “I know warm, hot, and hellishly hot. Good enough, huh?”  
Indiana was like any other state in the Midwest; drifts of snow and biting winds that transitioned into fields of wet, sticky mud into hot Indian summers with plenty of mosquitoes and back again to snow and howling wind. Jack can’t imagine winters without that Midwestern snow.

“So, little boy scout Jack Morrison was off killing chickens and fish in the good old days,” Gabriel muses. “Not really a thing people think of when they think about farms or when they think about you.” Jack grimly smiles, “No one does. No one realizes.”  
Gabriel’s expression softens, despite the pain, despite his dislike of showing that pain, and he lays a hand over Jack’s hand, careful not to break anything with his newfound super strength. “You’re still doing it, aren’t you?” Gabriel asks. “Killing things.”  
“Just not chickens and fish,” Jack wryly replies. “Bigger things now. Bigger things that have metal bodies and make clinking noises when you kill them.”

Gabriel exhales, a long, gusting breath, and looks up at Jack to say frankly, “I don’t think we ever will. The world is always going to want us to kill more, and if not that, it’ll need us to do it. Because there’s no one else to do the dirty job for them.” A corner of his lips tugs upward, but there’s no mirth in it. Only the silent, stark truth. “We’re soldiers, Jack. They’re always going to need us until they don’t. What happens if they don’t?” 

Jack doesn’t know how to respond to that, and Gabriel continues, “What happened to the ones that weren’t useful? On the farm. The chickens that stop laying eggs, the cows that stop giving milk?”

Jack knows what happens to them, and he doesn’t want to admit that it’ll happen to them. What’s the point of going through this expensive hell of new drugs and medications and serums if he’s just going to be used and thrown out by the end of it? Still, the truth of it is still there in the way that Gabriel grimaces into a facsimile of a smile and painfully eases himself up from his chair to put his tray back.

Jack forces himself up and follows Gabriel. When he sets his tray down as well, he stumbles slightly on his legs. Gabriel snatches him quite literally out of the air and keeps him supported above the ground. He’s around two inches from the ground, and at this range, he can literally hear every surging heartbeat in Gabriel’s chest. Jack can feel the forcefully restrained strength in Gabriel’s arms as well as his warmth and his chest and that same thump-thump of his heart. Instead of struggling to get out of his grip, Jack tries to relax and go limp. His blue eyes meet Gabriel’s brown, and something flickers between them. Jack doesn’t know what, but Gabriel carefully sets him back on his feet.

“Too early to start swooning like a damsel in distress,” Reyes quips. Jack musters up a smile on his face as he shoots back, “Then heroes wouldn’t have a job to do. And aren’t they building us for that?” 

Gabriel Reyes’s face grows solemn as he concedes, “That they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if this piece / work / fic is particularly good, but i'm trying ;u;


	5. ignoring invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the farm theme thing from the previous one inspired this one aha

Jack takes Gabriel back home to Indiana to meet his parents.

It never fails to surprise him. The way that his parents age. Their skin wrinkles, their eyes grow milkier and dimmer, and their hair turns pure white. Rationally, Jack knows that it’s inevitable. But whenever Jack and his parents meet each other, there’s that flash of bleak understanding; Jack will never quite age like his parents are doing. He feels like he should have hit some sort of marker of age whether it be at forty or fifty, but his skin remains smooth and his body remains active as ever. His reflexes, his strength, his vision, everything remains top-notch no matter how much the years pass.

But Jack is not fifty and bitter yet. He’s still in his golden years, the brilliant and unwilling Strike Commander of the newly-formed Overwatch. There’s a horribly boring party that some diplomat or some other CEO or some other equally rich and boring person is hosting. Gabe finds the invitation in a pile of their mail in their apartment mailbox that’s addressed to both of them. It’s never been quiet since Overwatch formed, and Gabriel frowns at the invitation. Both of them were never really up to social gatherings, but if the time required it, they could both turn up the manners and the charm as needed. Privately, Jack thinks that Gabe was always better at it than him, but he was the one with the blond hair and the blue eyes and the white skin. The All-American white boy that was as golden as the sun. He hates it, but Gabe teases him about it. _ Especially _ at night with his lips pressed close to Jack’s skin.

“Look at that,” Gabe comments. “They want us to wear fancy clothes at their party for appearance’s sake.” There’s a touch of bitterness to the comment, and Jack glances up from his newspaper. Gabe smiles wryly, a smile that he’s used too often recently, and continues, “So, Jackie, interested in being the one to RSVP?”   
Jack sighs; he’s never a fan of these parties. “Do we have to go?” he asks, knowing the answer already. “I don’t want to go either, Jackie,” Gabe says. “But I think that we’ll have to especially since Overwatch is still new and establishing better relations.” His smile turns mischievous as he says, “They’ll need their Strike Commander, you know.”

Jack’s expression sours as he says, “You know that you should have been the one to get the position.” Gabe shrugs, “I should’ve known already that I wouldn’t get it. You know, the entire L.A. street kid and punching people thing. I think that people are more comfortable with a farmer boy.” His expression sobers as he finishes, “Besides, I’m not exactly white.” Jack presses his lips together. Infuriating, really. To think that they still have problems about the color of a person’s skin even in a war against robots. You’d think that would unite humanity together as a whole force against another one. No, it was the opposite. People splintered into different groups, and the world was beginning to show the cracks and strains in it.

Impulsively, Jack think of a sudden excuse to get out of this party. Pulling the “sick” or “busy” card usually doesn’t cut it, but family does. And really, this is something that Jack has been pushing off for a while. Mostly, it’s because he doesn’t know how Gabe or his family will react. And god only knows how his small Indiana town will react when they find out that two of their beloved heroes from the Crisis are coming to visit. He can imagine the rows of people marching their way over to his old family farm with casseroles and easily reheatable foods for leftovers the next day. Midwestern hospitality and all that.

“Do you want to go meet my parents?” he blurts out, words tumbling their way out of his mouth. Gabriel gapes at him, and for once, he’s managed to stun the infamous Gabriel Reyes into complete silence.  
“Are you sure about that,  _ cariño?” _ Gabe asks carefully. “Your parents, are they ready to meet me? Do they  _ want _ to meet me? I’m sure that they know about me, but—”   
Jack hushes him with a slight peck to the cheek and says, “Yes, they know, and they’ve been wanting to meet you for ages. It’s just that our schedules with the military and now Overwatch have never overlapped or given us the time to. I’d like to take you to meet them now that we have time.” His smile turns slightly cheeky: a ghost of what it used to be when he was a young boy on a farm. The world seemed to be so much bigger back then. He doesn't think that he ever would have dreamed of the life he had now or the man he had beside him.

“Oh, alright,” Gabriel concedes as he leans over to grab Jack’s hand. “We might as well.”

The invitation gets tossed away on the floor as Jack pulls Gabriel closer for another kiss. This time, he aims for the lips instead, and Jack’s always had a good aim. 


	6. nightmares

It's not even dawn, but Jack's eyes suddenly snap open when he feels weight shift in and out of the bed. Super soldier nerves, he blearily thinks with a strange bitterness. Can't even sleep properly. Always on the alert now.

His eyes try to focus in the dark, and he can make out the outline of Gabriel standing in the dark, staring at seemingly nothing. "What are you doing?" he rasps out, voice rough from sleep and dreams. Gabriel glances back, and by this point, Jack's eyes have adjusted enough in the dark for him to see Gabriel's expression. Gabe's eyes look haunted, and he says wryly, "Bad dream, _cariño_." 

Jack squints in the dark; Gabriel Reyes has had his fair share of bad dreams but never enough to unsettle him like this. He throws back the covers and pads out of the bed to Gabe's side. Gabe automatically loops his arm around Jack's waist: a practiced, seamless gesture. Jack fits his arm in the space by Gabe's waist; it's familiar and comforting, yet it doesn't offer him any answers. "Want to talk about it?" Jack offers. It's the same offer that he makes every time Gabe wakes up with a faraway look in his eyes from day one of the soldier enhancement program to the days of Overwatch. Gabe always does the same as well. He won't say that it's a tradition or habit, but it's something that they've developed together over the years.

Gabriel stares straight forward at the closed window blinds and silence passes. Jack does not press; he knows that Gabe will talk when he wants to. If he does not, he will simply state it and Jack will understand. It's an easy, two-way thing that they have going on in terms of dreams.

"I dreamed," Gabriel starts. "I dreamed that we were all burning." 

Jack starts a little bit. None of Gabe's dreams have ever been quite like that. He furrows his brow and asks, "Was it that one explosion in Ontario? Or the firefight in Berlin?" He trails off before he musters enough breath to gently whisper, "Silicon Valley?"

Gabe shakes his head and sighs, "No, it was at the headquarters. In Geneva. _Dios mío,_ I have no idea what it means." His voice drops lower as he finishes, "But we were all burning, Jackie. We were all burning."

“Burning?” Jack echoes. He’s not sure how Gabe could have a dream about burning. “Maybe all of your bad memories blended together in one nightmare,” he tries. “Happened to me before.” He grimace as he remembers that dream. It was a horrifying combination of serum injections and constant firefights as omnics descended over the crest of the hills in the distance. Silicon Valley was always a battle, a war zone, that he could never quite get out of his mind.

Gabe flops back down on the bed and turns on his side. His eyes focus on the alarm clock by their bed, innocently ticking off the time in seconds and then in minutes and hours. He shuts his eyes hard and mutters, “Yeah, I guess it must have been that.” The dream just felt too realistic to be some kind of nightmare patched together from his bad memories.

Jack leans over Gabe and tries to get a look at his face. Gabe only buries his head further into his pillow and mumbles, “Sorry for waking you. Get back to bed, you have a busy day tomorrow.” And it’s true; Jack does have an early meeting with some representatives from the U.N. and various other nations, but at this moment in time, Gabriel Reyes seems more important than anything else. Gabe sacrificed his sleep for him when he had nightmares whether it be in SEP or afterwards. Jack would do the same for him too. Right now, Gabe needs Jack, not the Strike-Commander.

“If you were burning,” Jack says softly. He tries to pat Gabe's shoulder comfortingly as he continues, “I’d go in and save you. I’ve got biotic fields, Ana’s got her biotic rifle, and Angela has her Caduceus staff. We would make it out. We would survive.” Gabe turns over and stares up at him, dark eyes shining despite the night shadows. “We would,” he echoes. “That’s what we’ve always done, haven’t we, Jackie? Survive.”

Jack nods and strokes his hand down Gabe’s cheek. Gabe reaches up and does the same, tracing down his cheekbone to his chin. He smiles weakly and pulls Jack closer to the point where he loses balance and falls on top of him. Gabe turns both of them on their sides, keeping his arms around Jack, and they curl in towards each other. Gabe brushes his lips gently across Jack's lips, and Jack strains up to reciprocate.  After a while, they just lie there, breathing and waiting and listening to each other’s heartbeat. Sleep starts washing over them both, and Jack can feel his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. And before he finally submits and goes to sleep, he can hear Gabriel breathe out softly, “For what it’s worth, thanks. And I’ll be there afterwards. Even if we burn. I’ll still be there. There for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow that foreshadowing


	7. a small spark, a small life

Ana doesn’t tell them that she’s pregnant until she starts showing. 

Gabriel and Jack only realize that she’s pregnant when she gets hit mid-mission. Her voice gasps over the comms, “I’ve been hit.” And that’s precisely when Gabriel’s and Jack’s gaze slide over to meet each other with the same ice-cold horror.

Overwatch’s second-in-command simply does not get  _ hit _ .

Not when she’s farther back than any of them.

The omnics don’t let up on the fire; they keep firing bullet after bullet after bullet faster than anything. But Gabriel and Jack are super soldiers; they’re faster than any human profile that the omnics could have. With one look, they figure out a plan to weave and wind through the smoking battlefield to get back to Ana. And they do. 

Gabriel runs over to the side, ducking behind some cover, while Jack runs up ahead and gets their attention by launching a few rockets here and there. He starts firing at the omnics to buy enough time for Gabriel to go around them and destroy them with a few blasts of his shotguns. Then, they start running while the omnics are down. Every second lost here was also a second that Ana lost.

Jack’s muscles aren’t even burning with the strain yet, but his heart is pounding faster and faster and faster with every second that passes. At first sight, it doesn’t look like much. Gabe kneels down quickly to examine the wound, and really, it isn’t much. Ana would never let a single bullet mar the mission in any way possible if it was a minor one. A shot in the shoulder and a superficial yet long scratch down her arm. Her coat sleeve is ripped and bloodsoaked, but it shouldn't be that bad.

However, Ana grips Gabriel’s arm and chokes out, “I’m pregnant.” 

Sure enough, underneath the flaps of her long trench coat, her protective plating barely fits. The straps are loose, much looser than the captain would ever allow herself to wear. When Gabriel leans over to lift the largest plate off, the very slight swell of her abdomen says more than she ever could.

“Ana!” Gabriel hisses out, low and angry. “Why the  _ hell _ would you come onto a battlefield if you know that you’re pregnant? Think about the child!” Jack is speechless, and his fingers feel numb. However, he remains standing, mouth agape, in order to keep watch and fire if necessary. 

“I did,” Ana snarls out. “It’s still early, the baby hasn’t developed as much yet. The doctors back home say that I will be fine for a few more weeks if I’m not too active. And I  _ refuse _ to let my baby be born into a world where she could be  _ killed  _ by this war.” Her expression suffuses with pain as she tries to lean forward, and she reluctantly eases back as she sighs out, “I thought I was going to be okay. And I am. I’ve gone through worse. But _ the baby. _ ” 

“Too active?” Jack snaps incredulously. “You wouldn’t call this ‘too active?’”

Ana’s blood seems redder, more scarlet against her dark skin, after her revelation, and Gabriel quickly starts applying Angela’s newest invention: med-packs that utilizes her nanobio-tech. Jack tosses over a biotic field that he finds in his pocket and hefts his gun in his hands. The larger OR-15 units haven’t managed to shamble their way in yet, but time is ticking. Jack finally decides to make the executive decision and presses the comm tucked into his ear.

“I need evac,  _ now, _ ” he hisses when the comm crackles to life. Ana bursts out in protest, but Gabriel hushes her as he bends over her swelling belly protectively. Jack shakes his head at Ana firmly as he repeats, “Evac needed at sniper nest  _ now _ . Horus is injured and needs critical attention. I repeat, evac needed now.”

Later, when they have Ana ensconced safely in the transport shuttle, Gabriel and Jack huddle around her to hide her from view. The soldiers already there give questioning looks and open their mouths to ask, but Gabriel snaps out, “Hurry and get us out of here.” A single dark glare from Gabe also helps to shut their mouths. 

“Ana, you always were stubborn,” Gabriel sighs as he turns around to face Ana again. 

Ana tries to flash him a grin, but it falters halfway through. “Thank you,” she says softly. “I don’t know what I would have done if the injury was worse than this.”

“You should have thought before you went out like this,” Jack chides. His heart is still beating too fast, but at least Ana’s safe now. 

“I know,” she says rather sullenly. “I should have been more careful. I thought I could do it. And it’s only a scratch. I shouldn’t have panicked over a single scratch like this.”

Jack raises an eyebrow and says, "I wouldn't call a shot in the shoulder a 'scratch' but whatever helps you sleep at night." He shifts slightly towards the left when a person tries to peer at Ana's injury, and Ana gives a brief but grateful smile.

“You know Angela’s gonna give you hell for this, right?” Gabe quips.

Ana rolls her eyes and says dryly, “Both her and the father. I can’t wait.”

Gabriel and Jack exchange glances, and Jack is the first to hazard the question. “Who’s the father?” he asks carefully in a low tone. Gabriel glances behind him again to shoot dirty, baleful looks at the others in the transport.

Ana exhales and glances at the two of them before saying, “He’s a good man. He dreams of peace and quiet, a world where there aren’t any omnics. He’s not military, but he tries to make things happen on the more political side of things.” Her mouth curves upward as she continues, “I met him in Canada. Vancouver, to be exact. His name is Sam. You two would like him.”

“You two knew what you were getting into though,” Gabriel interrupts. “The war doesn’t wait for anyone.”

“I know,” Ana says with pain lancing through her expression. Jack doesn’t think that it’s from her wound. “I know too well,” she repeats.

Jack sighs and stands there in the swaying and rattling shuttle, and the two of them watch over their dearest friend, hoping to keep the small spark in both her and her child alive til the end of the war. For a better world, they hope.


End file.
